Wednesday, January 17, 2024

Day Drinking on the Job

 


The Destroyer vs. Rikidozan
NWA International Heavyweight Championship
Two Out of Three Falls match
Japan Wrestling Alliance (Association)
2nd December, 1963
Rating: A+


    Yanno what I love? Professional wrestling. Why? Because I just do. I'm not some emasculated eurotrash or never-made-it-never-will indie geek with a podcast who feels the urge to justify his likes and dislikes to total strangers 'cause I'm trying to convince myself they have some higher artistic merit. I know it doesn't. It's pro-wrestling. It's total brainless low-commala entertainment in which grown men in stupid costumes pretend to beat one another up while grifting for money and sometimes beat one another up for real. I like it 'cause it's cool; the same way some folks like cars and other folks like sports they're naïve enough to think aren't worked. Anyone who tries to peel the layers back and dive deeper in has an agenda to push.

That said, wrestling kinda sucks nowadays. You've got two whole generations of malnourished, left-leaning twinks who are more concerned with recreating moves they've seen in video games and bitching about low ratings on Twitter than putting in the work to get halfway decent at their chosen profession. We live in an age where people unironically believe Bryan Danielson is one of the best to ever lace up a pair and Hulk Hogan is an embarrassing relic of the past. Gimmie a break. The ultimate red pill is that based god Kevin Nash was absolutely right about everything - the majority of guys under 6'4" and 230lbs are not believable main eventers; being entertaining is more important than being athletic; characters sell tickets, not matches; the top draws have every reason to selfishly protect their spots as they're the ones earning the troupe their pay; the moves in the ring don't mean a damn thing unless you train the audience into thinking they do; and the ultimate goal of every pro-wrestler should be to make as much money with as little physical effort as possible. 

We must RETVRN.






    A little over sixty years ago, one of my favorite matches took place. The Japan Pro-Wrestling Alliance (or Association according to the brain trust at Cagematch.net) was Japan's first of many, many wrestling groups. With some places like Mexico and Europe it's hard to pinpoint exactly when the concept of pro-wrestling crystalized but it's very cut-and-dry with Japan as it was imported post-WWII by the likes of Karl Gotch and Lou Thesz and caught on rather quickly as soon as native hero Rikidozan (ironically Korean by birth) was established as the local star to beat back the evil gaijin Americans currently occupying their land in a much needed escape valve for collective cultural tensions. Sorta like how the Hogan era in the WWF was all about America defending itself from the looming threat of nuclear annihilation through the power of bulging muscles and rock 'n roll and the Austin era was all about a collection of surly individuals kicking back against the rise of an increasingly bland, corporatized, politically correct America that seemed to have a hate-on for the common working man.

But socio-economic conditions and larger political ramifications don't mean a damn thing if the art in question cannot stand up on its own in a vacuum. And that's how I judge wrestling matches. Are they fully functional stories taken on their own from bell to bell? A great crowd and a hot angle can give a real boost to a bout but once you step through those ropes and are given eight-to-sixty minutes to tell a story, whether or not it succeeds or not is up to how good you and your partner are at pantomime.

Rikidozan's villain-of-the-week is Dick Beyer, under his most popular guise as The Destroyer. Dick Beyer is lowkey one of the best pro-wrestlers to ever do it. The man understands how to work a live crowd better than most performers ever dream of. Terry Funk and The Rock are the only two off the top of my head who are in the same league... and he might honestly smoke them both by way of doing so while wearing a mask and relying almost exclusively on body language. He's the Lon Chaney of the squared circle. How good is Dick Beyer at his job? He's the only heel to ever receive a national award for his performances. 

Describing the beats of the match is unimportant as the real action is what happens between the moves. The flawless way that they play with the audience. The way that The Destroyer is always moving, chatting, engaging the crowd even if locked in a legscissors. The way Rikidozan teases his big overhead chop finisher. Everything is logical. Everything is built up. It's a perfect blend of realistic sport and exaggerated theatrics. You could know nothing about these men going in and understand them both perfectly by the time it's over. And of course the biggest bump is saved for the finish.

It was just plain better back then.


- - - 



No comments:

Post a Comment